Well, well. What is this? The lithe woman couldn’t help but to stare at upon the statue in the middle of the city of Egjora that seemed…out of place. She had been there for some time now, stalking the same area over and over while having a bit or two of fun at the expense of its citizens but this had never been here before today. Apparently she was the only one that hadn’t the foggiest clue on its reason for being here as she shifted over and saw some men in suits of armor, each of them with coin in hand and palmed them into the statue before they fell to a knee and she heard shallow breathing from them, like they were asleep. What sort of craft was this and why had they done what they did? Rize was known to have a boundless curiosity for such things and how they ticked, so she did the most logical thing- she removed a coin from one of the knights and placed it against the statue, which rendered her body unconscious. Her mind, however, was intact on the “other side”. Before she had been dressed in an elegant green dress, but now she bore black studded leather armor and boots, her fiery red locks were pulled back into a messy bun and a scythe was in her hands. “Welcome to Musalia, city of the Prince of Epics!”, proclaimed a strange fellow that seemed to have been waiting for her. The demon was quite confused about where she was or who this prince he spoke of was, but he looked over her and smiled.

“You are here for the Arena yes?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled her towards the center of the city, until they were at a destination that was a few blocks away from it. As he left her, she could hear the growls from behind her and gripped tightly at the shaft of her weapon. Brows knitted closely together as the sounds grew louder and then she was met with the presence of charging wolves coming after her. Standing her ground, she waited for them come before swinging the blade widely. It collided with the first one and she removed her left hand to caught the second by the scruff of its neck as it nearly pounced onto her and tossed it against the ground. The scythe was brought down quickly to dispatch it and she grinned marvelously at her work.  

Over the next few weeks, she was forced to obliged to the will and law of the Arena- first having to go through another that practiced the same speciality of mage fighting as she did and was ruthlessly cut down. The second had been a seasoned barbarian, favoring brute strength above all else, while they participated on an ever shrinking ring with spikes waiting below them. She simply had to and eventually did outsmart the oaf and watch him descend to his demise. The third annoyed her a little, only because the denizens of this realm had intertwined and made it so that her opponent hadn’t met with an end at her hands, but she was still considered the victor. The finale of this gauntlet was her versus a manticore, which was a strange bout for her as she had never saw such a creature before. For the longest time, Rize had been far too distracted to even think about harming this bizarre beast, yet she moved gracefully to dodge it swiping claws and fangs. Unfortunately as she weaving and ducking the spines it shot, one of them got her and she could feel the poison taking its toll. And with that, her mood shifted like a coming storm, fury and rage filled her eyes and she pounced onto it, wrestling with the manticore. Both rolled around the ground as she struggled to get her hands around its head, which was met with it biting her. Blood gushed down her arm and it worsen her mood as she pushed through the pain and reached for its eyes and pressed at them roughly with her fingers. She kept going until she gouged its eyes out, causing it to stumble about blindly, trying to get away as she took her scythe and slowly pursuit it. It thrashed about, trying to attack her, but she was able to make it through its feeble attempts and sliced into its neck and watched it fall. It was still breathing up until she reached down and grasped its head again and with a mighty twist, snapped its neck. As soon as it died, her mood lightened once more as a smile coyly as she circled around the corpse. “Pity. I wish I could have taken it home with me. Oh well, where's this Prince of Epics that had me running and jumping through hoops?”  

Torn was sitting in the nursery, softly singing a lullaby for Kite and Tempest. They were long since asleep, but Torn had learned that the longer he sang, the longer they slept easy. He was absolutely taken with the twins - his son and daughter were the light of his life, even after all the interesting things that happened after his ascension to divinity. So absorbed was he that when a muse entered the room, he didn’t even notice. Not until the muse in question joined him in the lullaby. Torn didn’t stop singing, but looked at the muse with a raised eyebrow. The angel, in turn, gestured at the door as she kept singing. Right, the fight. There was a woman who’d cut through all opposition over the last few weeks, having displayed cunning and strength in the ring. Magic, as well. The valkyries informed him that they sensed a mix of demonic and fey blood in the woman - making them skeptical towards her - but Torn didn’t care one way or another. If they won in the arena, they’d won the right to enter his quarters. The law of the arena was sacred, even to Torn.

Torn stepped out on his balcony, eager to see what the woman had to offer in terms of skill. He hadn’t seen any of her previous bouts, but this one showed promise - enough promise to warrant a solo fight against a monster, and on her first try to boot. The Battlemistress had taken a risk with this one - thinking that a fighter/monster one-on-one would be interesting enough on its own. Torn had found that the spectators loved to watch a good fight with many variables - the more chaotic the better. He’d have liked to see some magical pitfalls and traps in the arena during the fight, but the battle was plenty interesting without it.

The woman appeared unable or unwilling to harm its opponents at first. Torn saw no fear or apprehension in the woman’s face; Rather, he saw awe. He reckoned she thought the beast fascinating in some way, and turned to the Battlemistress, who had joined him on the balcony. “This challenger. What’s her name?” The Battlemistress turned her head towards him, and though her eyes were hidden by her helmet, he could tell she was looking at him. “She is known only as Rize, my prince,” she said, before returning her gaze to the battle - where, to be fair, her attention belonged. Torn looked at this Rize character with interest. She took a hit from the manticore, but kept fighting. Torn figured she’d use magic of some sort to avoid getting into the manticore’s mêlée range, but was pleasantly surprised when she moved in close instead.

Not bad. She won’t be a target for the spines there, and close-up attacks give more physical cues, he thought to himself. He grabbed his cup, and took a healthy swig of mead while he watched the battle unfold. The crowd, which had been deadly silent with only the occasional “Oh,” or “Woo”, now cheered continuously as the struggle seemed like it could go either way. Even Torn leant forward in his seat from the excitement, smiling. Then, Rize managed to gouge the eyes out of the manticore, and from there, it only went one way.

The crowd went crazy as Rize marched in for the killing blow, cheering her on. It could be years between times a Revalite could visit the Dream Arena, and to see a gauntlet’s victor emerge was rare, so the excitement was thick in the air. When Rize finally brought the beat low, the crowd erupted, jumping up from their seats to cheer for the arena’s new champion. She snapped the manticore’s neck, and the beast, slain, melted into the dust and disappeared. The Battlemistress spread her wings and flew from the balcony, down to the arena floor, hovering in the dead middle about ten feet off the ground. She pointed her spear at Rize with one hand while holding her hand out to the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen of Revaliir, I give you Rize, winner of the Dream Arena’s Warrior Gauntlet!” She lifted her hand, and the arena was filled with the applause and cheer from the audience, as well as a couple of silver coins thrown by the waking visitors. The magic of the arena caused all the coins to roll into a neat pile at Rize’s feet, and one enamoured young knight even threw her a red rose, presumably reserved for one of the bardic contests.

As Rize asked for ‘this Prince of Epics’, the Battlemistress pointed at the balcony, situated fifty feet above the arena floor, in the middle of the section neighbouring the Chambers of Mystery, his own halls. The Seven Judges, the muses that oversaw the Bard’s Gauntlet, played a melody as a platform appeared beneath Rize’s feet, and turned into a disc of beautifully embellished marble, depicting scenes of battle along the sides and overgrown with vines, flowers, and other flora. The disc floated up to Torn’n balcony to fit neatly into a dip in the viewing platform, where the railing disappeared. In any other scenario, the dip appeared to be in place to give a more unobstructed view of the arena floor, but that clearly was not the case. As Rize arrived at the balcony, Torn sat in his chair, cup in hand, grinning broadly.

“Nice fight, Rize the half-demon,” Torn greeted her. He looked at the Battlemistress, smiling. “Heal her, please.” The valkyrie obeyed, washing away the poison and injuries with a single gesture, leaving Rize once again in prime form. Torn got up from his seat, and invited Rize inside. “Come on in.”

A beautiful yet disastrous scene had unfolded before the crowds and Rize relished in it all. Aside from some disappointment from not being able obtain the beast, she was perfectly satisfied with its destruction. The thrill brought pleasure in her depraved and warped mind, so much that for a brief moment in time she had forgotten about being kept in this realm for weeks and made to fight others in order to gain the approval of who she assumed to be the lord and master here. She suppose that given her dispatchment of foe after foe that was thrown at her, and the frenzy that the crowd was thrown into, she would have that chance eventually.

The manticore’s body eroded into nothingness before her eyes, solving the aged old question of how were they going to dispose of the body from the arena. Cracking her neck a bit, Rize glanced over to the one overseeing the battle and announced her victory. The audience were feeding from the palm of her hand as they cried her name and expressed their enjoyment and appreciation. It certainly entertained her to see such people starve for such thrills and return them with applause and praise. But it was time for matters of business and her request was obliged. Without warning, she found herself ascended up to a balcony and she lowered her scythe to the ground. There would likely be no more use for it anyway and Rize saw the host awaiting at the top. Instinctively she lowered herself into a sort of bow towards the master. “I thank you, kind host. I hoped you were pleased with the show.” Icy eyes wandered back to the valkyrie that had brought her here rejuvenated her body back to full health. Any trace of the poison that had been lurking in her since the last fight was rid of, as were the cuts and scratches she could feel beneath her armor.

“You seem to know of my identiy before I knew of yours. Intriguing. Do you and yours keep up with those that partake your challenges?”, she asked as she accompanied him inside. He was the lord here, after all so it didn’t seem all that unlikely that he would have tabs kept of outsiders.  

Torn nodded at Rize’s question about being kept tabs on. “Obviously, I don’t keep tabs on every contestant in person,” he said, as he led Rize throughout the hallways of the Chambers of Mystery. Torn’s palace looked a lot more homely than one might have thought, adorned less with trophies, weapons, and armour than one might expect. Instead, the floors were carpeted, the colourful walls hung mostly with paintings, with no more martial or even musical adornment than a typical nobleman’s castle. Valkyries, minor muses, and other angelic attendants were milling about, keeping the place operational. “The valkyries are responsible for the running of the Warrior’s Gauntlet,” he said as they walked. “They log all contestants that qualify and keep track of their record,” he explained. “You’ll recall having to give an offering of blood as you entered the realm,” he continued, as he led Rize down a flight of stairs, and the scenery changed. Here, the walls were covered with epic tapestry depicting scenes of valor and glory, and the adornments were all martial in nature, with display cases of various trophies and statues of heroes and monsters alike. “This blood offering serves to track you. When you enter the arena, you blood provides information about your identity for the valkyries to log. It also ensures that they can find you, should you break any of Musalia’s most basic laws.”

Torn opened a door, leading to a luxurious suite filled with all the things Rize could possibly need. There was a large, comfortable bed, a steaming hot bath in a marble pool, a vanity, stands for repairing and maintaining weapons and armour, a wardrobe filled with comfortable clothes Rize could use during her stay, and a table laden with food and drink for her to enjoy. Torn looked at Rize and smiled. “Now. You’ve won the gauntlet, which earns you a few privileges,” he said, offering Rize to step inside and inspect the room. “If you want to rest and enjoy the spoils of victory for a few days, that is your right,” he continued, walking over to the table and filling himself a cup of mead. “If you want anything, just ring the bell and an attendant will come. And, should you wish for company,” he said, his voice thick with implication, “I’m certain one of my angels would be eager to provide, and listen to your stories,” he said. It was plain that he didn’t think much of making such an inappropriate offer, but then again, it was plain that Torn didn’t really have many inhibitions. He drained his cup, and turned to look at Rize again. “I insist that you make use of your time and enjoy yourself for a few days,” he said, gesturing to the room. “I should stay at home for a few days more to attend to my children, anyway,” he continued, before filling his cup again. “When you get that itch to go and face a real challenge, just summon one of my valkyries, and I’ll see what I can dig up,” he said, with a grin. “No need for the usual trying to convince me. You did that in the arena,” he concluded.

So that’s how… The corner of her lip curled up tightly as he revealed how the fighters were collectively known. It was quite a brilliant set up they had here and all it took was merely some drops of blood. “Very ingenious if I may say so.” Now that she thought of it, her observations of these halls had spoken high volumes of his valkyries so it only made enough sense that he would place so much trust into them, especially when it came to the affair of the contenders that come here in masses. As much of a troublemaker that Rize could be, she knew when to lay low and not tempt the fates. This was one of those times and she merely tilted her head to portray a sincere look yet the smile never wavered once. “My lord, I’m afraid that if they expect to catch me challenging the powers of authority here, they will be sadly disappointed. I haven’t the slightest interest in bring forth disrespect here. My curiosity about this place simply needs to be fed is all.”

Venturing onward, the lord brought her into a lovely little place to lodge. She took in his explanation as her blue orbs sought around the suite, inspecting it thoroughly. Arms fell behind her back and fingers interlocked as she walked past the table filled with refreshments. “I suppose you are right; a couple of days should refresh me and I do await what challenges you can whip up by then.” Giving him a subtle wink, Rize decided to do as what was suggested for her and rest up for the coming days. She partook in her scenery, as much of the sweets and baked goods that they would bring to her and even a lady or two from his divinely blessed court for the next few days before boredom captured her once more.

Calling forth one of the valkyries, she politely asked so see if the the Lord of Musalia had that challenge already for her. Slipping out of the silk robe she had started to get used to, she donned her familiar battle armor and fetched not only her scythe, but also a broadsword she acquired recently. The call to fight was itching at her again, but she waited ever patiently to see if the call to action had been premature. 

Torn spent his next few days primarily watching the games around in Musalia and caring for his twins. He also took note of what Rize was doing - she seemed to enjoy herself, and a small handful of his angels could tell stories of her skill in bed. Torn noted that Rize had only taken female angels into her bed - not that it mattered - but made sure that Rize always had female attendants. A few days later, the half-demon passed on the message that she was ready for her quest. Torn was rather hoping she’d wait a few more days, but apparently he’d have no such luck. So when the request came, he replied - summoning Rize to his platform overlooking the arena.

When Rize arrived, Torn noticed he was already in her armour. He gestured at a seat next to him. Below, a band of bards was holding a concert - playing a technically impressive song with a rather dull text. “I had hoped to get the chance to see you in a dress,” Torn said, in a tone that made it impossible to know if he was joking or not. He quietly observed the band for a while before continuing. “We won’t be leaving just yet,” he said finally. “I still have some matters to attend before we can head out. That, and the quest I had in mind resolved itself. I need to find another,” he said, sighing as the band finally got finished with their mediocre performance. He took a deep gulp of mead from his cup. “I was planning on thinning out the number of giants in a region, but a band of mercenaries got to work doing that yesterday,” he explained. He looked at Rize, as if not quite sure what to make of her. “But since you’re here, regale me. What brought you here? What did you have to gain from completing my gauntlet?”

Given that Torn was in control of the realm before him, it was only mildly shocking when she was summoned to him. She nodded lightly before taking her seat, her eyes lingering upon the bards below for a few moments as they carried on with their performance. Only when the lord had addressed her did the redhead turn to face him, a sly smile briefly planted on her lips. “On the days before now, you’d would have, my lord. Sadly, such attire is unfitting for combat and adventuring.” Rize crossed her legs and leaned backwards against her chair as she pondered whether her brothers and sisters had crossed over into Revaliir. Already she knew her father had and instructed her to be on her best behavior, but he had also known of how easily bored she could be become and what would come from it. Fortunately this little venture had distracted her enough to not let things get that far.

She nodded again when he announced that her reward would be postponed for a bit. She suppose that waiting some more wouldn’t hurt anyone. “I see…” Besides there was nothing that she could do to argue against it, so she let it be for now. Paying little mind now to the band, she muffled a yawn into a softer sound. “In any case, it may seem as though you might get that wish for me in a dress after all.” Rize relaxed a bit more, growing comfortable in her seat as her fingers danced nimbly against the armrests as if they were legs of a spider. Nails lightly dug into the material yet were careful enough not to damage the property that was not her own- that would have been rude and inconsiderate after all.   

“To be frank, it was ever growing curiosity that lurked me to your entrance but it had been others of your stead that had bolted me right into the colosseum. But the fights kept my interest the more challenging they became. I do not to be kept bored for long periods of time, so I do try to live life to the fullest.” Her cold blue eyes latched onto his and narrowed, “I can’t help but to think that you would agree, my lord. After all, have you not shaped this place with such a view?” 

Torn chuckled as Rize said he might get his wish after all. “Looking forward to it,” he said, as the band from before got help cleaning up the arena. They looked rather crestfallen, for the judges had seen fit to deem their performance sub-par, and decreed that they’d have to take their pilgrimage anew to get a second chance at the bard’s gauntlet. While they were cleaning up, the battlemistress spoke. “Your audaciousness. The next event will be a final stage battle. Eight fighters have passed their third match and are set to fight against twin serpent dragons. The arena will be platforms in a lava lake.” Torn looked at the battlemistress with a furrowed brow. It was a rare thing for the battlemistress to go into such detail - but then he realized what their victory would mean. Having two victors pending at the same time would be too much, he realized. He looked at Rize - who was geared for battle already - and had an idea.

“Say, Rize,” he said, smirking. “I doubt you’d want to drag another person along on this quest, and I cannot provide two victors with the attention they deserve,” he explained. He got up from his seat, and began to shimmer. In a heartbeat, Torn was clad in full armour, holding his spear and shield. There was a glint in his eye - the demon might recognize the glare that was bloodlust. “So how about this: We ditch the snakes. You live through this next fight, and you’ll be reigning champion. If they defeat us, the new champion will take your place.” While it was formulated as a suggestion, it was plain that Torn would brook no argument. Clearly, in the arena, one had to fight to keep their place should a rival appear.

The battlemistress seemed to approve of Torn’s idea - for once. A light shone beneath her helmet from where her eyes probably were, telepathically communicating the change of plans to her aides. Torn grinned at Rize. “Let’s do this, huh?” As the battlemistress announced the arrival of the eight prospective champions, Torn lept off his viewing platform, plummeting to the ground seventy feet below. However, his pegasus, Nightsun, swooped down from below and picked him up mid-fall. Torn sailed above the challengers on the pegasus’ back, and while he made a point of putting on a show for the audience, Rize would be able to hear him speak to her by way of telepathy. Jump. The arena floor will not do you harm. Should you fall here, you will be revived, and your life will not be lost should you choose to try again, and fail. So have no fear! The arena floor shook, and the ground beneath the feet of the challengers seemed to vanish. Below was only a pit of blackness, covered by bridges and platforms creating a three-dimensional battleground made of nigh invisible glass. Torn and Rize had an advantage, however - their eyes could see the outline of the platforms in the shape of a blue glow, whereas their rivals could not. It was clear that the bottomless pit was more than just show - plenty of holes in the ground led directly to a long fall and death. Torn spoke to Rize telepathically again. Should we win, you can join me and my wife at the dinner table - but wear a dress! he said, the message followed by echoing laughter.

The familiar sight of the battle mistress was a sight on the sore eyes that dwelled in Rize’s head. Out of all the ladies here, she had yet to enjoy her company, provided that she would have any free time between refereeing the arena’s contests to do so. It was a pity, but she remained quiet about her thoughts and watched her inform them of the next event. Eight fighters…well that was something new that she had been unaware of, but then again Rize never had questioned what was and wasn’t allowed in the ring. She couldn’t help but to let out a soft laugh amongst herself before the lord’s eyes came to her. He seemed to be filled with thought after being relayed the news and she didn’t have to wait very long as to why that was the case.

“It would matter not to me which was the case. If they were to slow us down, then at the very least they would serve best as bait to be fed to our quarry.” She made no point in masking how satisfied she would have been to undergo that plan. She looked at him attentively as he prepared himself and bore both armour and weaponry. Her head tilted just a bit to the right, curious of what he was scheming, but whatever it was it certainly shined away any bit of boredom that may had been brewing in her prior. In fact, she was growing with excitement as she listened to the suggestion of fighting the newcomers. Her mind was piecing together two and two, seeing that it would be taboo to have his time divided up so suddenly and also that only she or one of the fighters awaiting their last trial could stand as the champion. “Hm, such an offer would be foolish to pass up. And I can’t very well have them take my glory and right away.” She rose slowly from her seat and approached the edge of the balcony overseeing the battlefield.

Already he was grandstanding before their soon to be opponents, not that it bothered her any. They looked to her as caught flies and other little bugs looked to a spider; they would provide her with endless entertainment until she got bored and ended them. The woman was stepped off the edge willingly, taking the long drop all the way onto the ground below. She was hungry for blood, and it was time to drench her desires again. The handle of the scythe was gripped tightly as she stood upon the lambs if not for a moment for the field changed before them. She could clearly see the platforms they would be forced to depend upon from the drop that was beneath the facade of a battlefield. It would be assumed that it would ill advised to fall down there, but she had no intention of finding out by using herself. Moving with a slow yet graceful approach, she snuck around their environment as she looked for some easy picking amongst the candidates.
Words of his invitation at dinner reached her, as did his repeating request at her dressing in something more comfortable. Funny, he didn’t seem like the sort to be a family man, though she let that thought pass her by as she spotted the first contestant for the pitfall ride.

He appeared to look like of those knights you’d see in fairy tales, the gallant white knight that would slay the dragon and save the princess and the kingdom. She made certain not to strike just yet until she was sure he was separated from the rest. When that happened, she swung her scythe and bashed it into his back. He fell forward and she shifted gears, the slow and steady predator turned more vicious as she ripped the helm away from him and flung him away a good few feet with one hand. “I suppose I can, but first…a game. Let’s see who can defeat the most!” She allowed the knight to regain his focus and collect himself before she readied for the fight. Drawing the scythe’s blade down to the ground and dragged it and she came closely, allowing for the scraping sound to echo about. The knight charged in while she kept the same pace, her play changing once more when he drew closer and her malicious side was unleashed again. His sword swung but she dodged and took hold of his arm, and in a fluid motion, twisted it and went behind him, pinning it against his back before kicking him back to the ground. As he recovered and sought her out, she brought the blade down on his exposed neck. She made it a point not to decapitate him, but the gashing wound she had made would be more than enough to shorten his days. Rize looked on with sharpened irises and a delightfulness in his eyes and smile as she approached one last time to kick his body off the platform and to see him off his trip into the darkness.